Roadie lay sprawled on the ground, barely breathing his body broken, his strength bled dry.
And somewhere deep in the haze of pain, his mind slipped.
When did my life stop being mine?
Where did it all start to fall apart?
Then, like a thread tugged loose from a fraying memory, it came back to him.
Ah… now I remember.
We see Roadie young, proud begin to speak, not to anyone else, but to himself.
"I was born to a decent family in Liftin City. Nothing grand, nothing poor. My father was a schoolteacher not rich, but respected. People would greet him with warmth when we walked the streets. They admired him. Looked up to him like he carried the whole city on his back.
He was my hero. My North Star.
And I… I just wanted to be like him. Or maybe more than that I wanted people to see me. To look at me the way they looked at him. With respect. With pride."
He pauses, and his voice grows quieter.
"My mother was a simple woman. A kind housewife. Quiet. Predictable. Like most women in our part of the city. She kept things together, even when they were falling apart."
He chuckles bitterly.
"To the world, we looked like a perfect family. Smiling faces. Sunday markets. Family dinners.
But reality… has a habit of peeling away the paint once you start to grow up. Then you start to see and once you see, you can't unsee."
"My father would often travel outside the city, giving lectures in other towns. Sometimes he'd be gone for days. Weeks.
While he was away… other men started showing up at our house.
My mother always introduced them as 'friends of your father.' Smiling, gentle, like nothing was out of place. Then she'd send me outside to play.
I didn't understand it back then. I was too young. Too innocent to read between the silences.
But it kept happening. One man after another. Each visit wrapped in the same lie. And over time, the neighbors noticed. They always do. In cities like Liftin, secrets echo louder than bells.
Eventually, the whispers reached me too but not as whispers.
Some kid at school spat it in my face. Called me
'the whore's son.'"
His jaw clenches in the memory. A storm swirls behind his words.
I beat the crap out of him. Broke his nose. Left him crying in the mud.
But deep down, I knew.
I finally understood what had been happening all those years.
So I told my dad.
I thought he'd get angry. Thought he'd storm through the door, yelling, demanding answers. That he'd do something, anything.
But instead…
his face just
lost all its color.
Like someone had pulled the soul out of him in one breath.
He didn't shout.
Didn't cry.
Didn't even speak.
He just… sat there. Still. Silent. As if he'd always known but never wanted it said out loud.
And in that silence, I felt something inside me snap.
I wasn't just watching my hero fall. No ,I was watching him choose to stay fallen."
That night, I woke to the sound of yelling, low at first, then sharp and angry, like a storm building in a bottle.
Then came the crash of glass.
Heart pounding, I crept out of my room, down the stairs, the wooden steps colder than I remembered.
I peeked into the living room
And my soul froze.
There, on the floor, lay my father.
His body motionless.
His throat painted red.
A pool of blood spreading beneath him like ink across parchment.
Above him stood a man I'd never seen before, his hand still clutching the jagged stem of a broken bottle, its tip dripping with my father's blood. His face was twisted with rage like animal. Unforgiving.
But what shattered me more…
Was my mother.
She wasn't crying.
Wasn't screaming.
She was pacing, frantic but not with grief. With fear. With urgency.
"We have to do something, darling!" she kept whispering. "We have to clean this up before Roadie wakes up, before the neighbors hear!"
Not a word about my father. Not a tear. Just… inconvenience.
The man snapped at her, growling something I couldn't hear, then struck her across the face. She stumbled, but still muttered, still planned, still schemed.
And I—I was trembling. My breath caught in my throat. My legs gave out slightly and my shoulder clipped a vase on the shelf. It toppled, crashed to the floor with a sound like a scream.
The man froze.
His head snapped toward the stairs, eyes burning.
Then he roared
"Who's there?!"
I didn't think.
I couldn't.
The moment his voice thundered through the house, my body moved on its own—pure instinct. I turned and ran.
Out the door.
Out of the house.
Out of the only life I'd ever known.
I didn't know where I was going. I didn't care. I just… ran. houselights blurred past me like stars falling out of the sky. My legs burned. My lungs begged for air. But I didn't stop.
Not until my body finally gave out.
I collapsed between two houses just a narrow gap barely wide enough for me to curl into. The air was cold, sharp, biting through my clothes. My breath came in short, shallow gasps, fogging in the dark.
I pulled my knees to my chest. Hugged them tight. And I whispered.
"Dad… Dad… Dad…"
Over and over. Like a broken prayer. Like if I said it enough times, he'd come back. That none of it had happened.
But the silence answered.
And that's when I knew
My childhood had ended that night.
From then on, I survived like a stray.
Begging in alleys that didn't know my name.
Feasting on scraps, digging through garbage like a starving dog.
Drinking rainwater from potholes, sometimes black with oil.
The alley thugs, older boys, broken men, beat me for sport. Fists, boots, bottles. But I endured. I don't know why. I just did.
I kept whispering into the night, "Help me… someone… anyone…"But the streets never answered. And no one ever came.
By the time I turned twelve, something inside me snapped.
That day, it hit me:
No one cared.
No one would ever care.
I wasn't loved. I wasn't wanted.
So I stopped asking.
The world had taken everything from me. So I decided that I'd take everything from the world.
That night, for the first time, I drenched my hands in blood.
A civilian. Just a man passing by. I don't even remember his face.
I beat the thugs who used to kick me down. Made them kneel.
Turned their torment into loyalty. By fifteen, I ruled that alley like a god built from filth and fury.
I awakened my Rhu core around then. It meant little to me. Power was just another tool.
But that year… I saw her.
My mother.
Behind a brothel, where they threw out the garbage. She lay there, beaten to pulp, her eyes swollen shut, face purple and raw. Her dress was torn, soaked in filth. Her body stank like a gutter that'd rotted from the inside out.
And in that moment, I felt…
Nothing.
No pity. No hatred. Not even sorrow.
Just a hollow silence in my chest.
After that… I had everything.
Power. Fear. Control.
But something was missing. A hollow place inside me, like a room without a door always there, always empty.
I didn't know what it was. Not until that day.
A golden-armored knight rode through the city streets. His horse gleamed like fire under the sun.
The people stopped. Eyes wide
Heads turned.
Mouths whispered in awe.
Not fear.
Not hate.
Awe.
Respect.
And that's when it hit me.
It wasn't the knighthood I wanted. I didn't give a damn about honor or duty.
It was how they looked at him.
That was the missing piece.
I wanted that, the eyes of the world fixed on me with wonder, with reverence.
So I joined the Royal Knights Academy.
Not to serve.
But to rise.
There, I was an outcast.
The Royal Academy was built for nobles, sons of dukes, heirs of generals, children born with silver crests on their collars.
Someone like me? I was nothing more than a novelty. A stray dog paraded through marble halls.
To them, I was a joke.
A plaything. Something to sharpen their cruelty on.
But amidst all that venom and gold, there was another outcast. Jaeger.
He came from the gutter, just like me. We both crawled out of the same rot.
But he had something I never did
Love. Parents. Warmth.
And that made all the difference.
He was always better. Faster. Sharper. Stronger.
I hated him for it.
I hated the way he held his head high. The way he stood unfazed when they mocked him. The way he didn't flinch when they tried to break him.
But beneath all that hate…I respected him.
Because unlike me, Jaeger didn't let the world twist him into something cruel.
The fire that burned inside him didn't consume him.
It lit his path. While mine... scorched everything it touched.
What started as a grudge slowly turned into rivalry.
Then into respect. Then, somehow… into brotherhood.
We never said it out loud, we were too stubborn, too proud. But we had each other's backs. Always.
If someone mocked Jaeger, I beat the crap out of them without a second thought and he? He stood beside me when punishment came crashing down.
We fought together. Bled together. Laughed in silence and endured in storms.
Those days…Those damn days...
They were hell. But they were ours.
And in some twisted way, they were the best days of my life.
But like they say, Not all good things last forever.
Jaeger left. Just like that. Returned to his hometown to serve some highborn shithead. Left me behind to rot in his shadow.
And the world never let me forget it.
"Jaeger this, Jaeger that…"While I stood there, nothing more than a ghost in his wake.The shadow of Sir Jaeger the Great.
They mocked me. Laughed like I was a mistake wearing borrowed armor.
That's when it hit me, my real purpose for coming to the academy. It wasn't power. It wasn't the ranks .It was honor. That glow in the people's eyes when they looked at a hero.
But it was too late. My name was already tainted, forever bound to his and I couldn't bear it.
So I walked away. Quit. Tossed it all to the wind like ashes from a dying fire.
I slipped back into the shadows, back into the life I came from. Thuggery. Gangs. Blood and fear.
Even there, I was a king of nothing.
Feared? Sure. Renowned? Maybe. But loved? Admired?
Never.
I was a blade with no banner. A monster with no meaning. And worst of all...There was no one left to guide me. No hand to pull me back.
So I let the world drag me under.
And it shaped me into what I am now.
A man with nothing left.
Every time I look at my reflection, I feel the bile rise in my throat.I hate it, hate the man staring back.Not because he's weak.But because he's everything I swore I wouldn't become.
A twisted echo of my younger self.
The light in my eyes? Gone.Replaced by a hollow flicker, like the dying embers of a fire no one bothered to keep alive.
But this is my reality.A cracked mirror I can't turn away from.And whether I like it or not, I have to live in it.
Because no one else will live it for me.